Archive for clairaudient

***From the archives: This is one of my all-time favorite interviews! Diabolique Editor-in-Chief Kat Ellinger and I dive deep…(Original Oct 2016 post can be found HERE.) ***

“Musical Séance and the Sublime Art of Darkness:”

Resembling the lovechild of H.H. Holmes and a silent era siren, when it comes to dark music there is only one Jill Tracy. As a singer, pianist, and performer, she conjures a timeless netherworld that opens up the portals to forgotten places; nightmarish, magickal, bathed in perpetual twilight. It is not surprising that since her breakthrough album, sophomore effort 1999’s Diabolical Streak (a follow-up to 1996’s Quintessentially Unreal)—which includes morbid classics like Evil Night Together, The Fine Art of Poisoning, and Pulling Your Insides Out—Tracy has gone from strength to strength, gathering worldwide acclaim. Constantly evolving, tirelessly, endlessly, she is a creative force to be reckoned with.

Diabolique caught up with Tracy to talk to her about her origins, her love for the occult, the macabre, her fascination with the otherworldly, and how this fuels her creative canvass. Tracy also shares with us her inspirations, her thoughts on the commodification of music and struggle with being a truly unique independent artist, as well as discussing some of her collaborations and current work with Philadelphia’s Mütter Museum.

Diabolique: How did you start out, and how has your music evolved over time?

Tracy: Strangely, I have come full circle, enamoured with minimalism, and doing solo shows again. That’s how it began, me at a piano—but when I first started out, I felt like it was not enough—I wanted a band. It had to be big! Most of my songs do have a heaviness- a cinematic, dark vibe, and I thought the only way I could achieve this intensity was to have more instruments. (Little did I know.) So the band grew from 3 players up to 11! I affectionately called them “The Malcontent Orchestra.” I’d joke onstage that “in a band of Malcontents you never knew who would show up,” so we had this great revolving cast of rock star guests. Even if the band was only 4 people, we’d call it The Malcontent Orchestra. It was fabulous. But in time, became overwhelming and limiting, not only for me—but rehearsals, travels, schedules, being able to make money. I was producing events, winning awards, but I was miserable. I felt like I had lost myself (and the music) in the din. All the nuances I strive so hard to achieve in my voice and piano were buried. I realized how much I wanted to utilize space and breath between the notes. Textures. The quiet can be rapturous, the most intense thing in the entire arrangement. The soul lives in the silence.

In the past few years, I have been excavating my work down to its essence, to what truly serves the songs, performing often as a trio, duo—or me alone—sharing eerie tales, memoir, scores and songs, manifesting my elegant netherworld. Falling in love with the experience that got me writing music in the first place.

Diabolique: How did you discover your love of the piano?

Tracy: I never wanted to play the piano. I always wanted to sing, but the piano discovered me in a sense. I was a misfit child, felt out-of-sorts with this world (still do.) I always believed there was another place, a magic, hidden realm that one could discover with the proper methods. I tried to build a time machine in my bedroom closet. I thought one could travel through the shadows.

I read about time travel, the belief in other dimensions, spirits, ghosts—I would lecture to my stuffed animals about the solar system and constellations. All I wanted to do was to discover or manifest hidden worlds. I knew they existed. My mission was to figure out how to find them.

I began making frequent visits to an elderly widow who lived next door. Her home was encrusted with bric-a-brac, old photos and dolls—porcelain-painted Siamese cats with jewels for eyes. In the basement was an ancient upright piano, covered entirely in beige and gold-flecked paint. It sat next to the washer and dryer, under buzzing fluorescent lights.

There was something atrocious, yet reverent about this thing. It kept calling me. I knew nothing about the instrument, but I kept venturing next door, poised on the golden bench for hours, letting thoughts and spectres rush through my fingertips, as it transported me far away. (I used to call it “thinking.”)

I didn’t know what I was doing– but didn’t want to do anything else. This became my portal—and still is.

Diabolique: You’ve become synonymous with your elegant, dark style and sound. When did you discover it?

Tracy: Thank you. I love that I am synonymous with my style, which essentially is just ME. I’ve looked like this for years! (laughs) I wouldn’t know any other way.

I’ve always been drawn to the shadowy intrigue of the silent screen era, gypsies and fortune tellers, the occult, and 1970s rock. My style is a collection of passions. I’ve always felt any glamour worth its shimmer has an equally ragged edge.

I did the proverbial running-away to New York City after high school, lived on the third floor of a former coffin factory. All I owned was a mattress on the floor and an old baby grand piano. (This was circa 1990, back when you could still be a struggling artist in NYC.) I used to sit in the wee hours at the candle-lit piano, peering through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows into the streetlights and vacant lot below. I never felt more inspired— or more alone. My music became my spell, my incantation, my catharsis. It was so private to me, in fact, that it was years before I would even let anyone hear it.

Diabolique:Could you tell about some of your musical influences— also could you explain the influence of cinematic music on your overall sound?

Tracy: I have always been drawn to the mysterious—fantastical, otherworldly imagery. Worlds sans-time. I’m obsessed with Alfred Hitchcock, Bernard Herrmann, Ray Bradbury, Rod Serling, Jean Cocteau. Through classic cinema, film noir, and Serling’s The Twilight Zone, I was captivated by the glorious mystery, elegance, and succinct, yet smart storytelling. Often it was what you didn’t see that really put the fear in you. Not to mention the dreamlike, sensual look to the films, dangerous romance, unsettling camera angles, surreal lighting and shadows.

I used to stay up all night as a kid, watching old horror movies on Chiller Theater. I’d often turn the volume down on the TV and make up my own music. We had an old Hammond organ in the house. I learned that MUSIC conjured the emotional response. The music held all the power.

What was it about certain notes or scales? Why does a certain scale make us feel scared, aroused, and then another scale or chord is joyful? Is it simply mathematics, conditioning, or something visceral? Magical?

Composer Bernard Herrmann tells the tale of how Hitchcock originally wanted silence during the infamous Psycho shower scene! Can you even imagine it today without the trademark shrieking violins? That’s a vital part of what makes that scene so memorable. And those violins alone evoke fear and violence whenever we hear them.

The rock bands that first inspired me had the same beautiful sense of mystique and grace—Pink Floyd, David Bowie, early Peter Gabriel, Japan, The Cure. Even listening to Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, early Genesis— there was something majestic—and timeless. These artists were well read, and made us want to pull books off the shelves. I learned about Aleister Crowley from listening to Bowie, learned about Nabokov from The Police. This sense of grace, mastery, and sophistication is sadly lacking today.

I realized back then I wanted to create work that was timeless and singular.

Late night New York City alleyways during filming of the music video “Pulling Your Insides Out.”
Photo by Jeremy Carr

Diabolique:Could you explain the ideas behind your lyrical content?

Tracy: My work is about honoring the mystery, the forgotten, that beautiful allure of the darkness, the stories lost in Time, the ecstasy of melancholy—La Douleur Exquise “the exquisite pain.”

I often focus on the struggle of being yourself in a world that is trying its hardest to turn you into everybody else. Staying true to yourself; that’s the hardest and most glorious battle of all.

Diabolique:How do you combine aspects of performance and music for your live act? What could people expect at one of your shows?

Tracy: With environment and story playing such a role, I love to design events curious to the venue. I created an ongoing after-dark series at the wondrous San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers where I hosted night tours of the gardens and performed music. I curated each evening on a different intriguing theme— like the strange history of perfumes, poisonous plants and the arsenic craze, spirits that supposedly lived in various woods of violins.

I spent weeks researching and exploring the abandoned (and supposedly haunted) historical buildings of The Presidio (dating back to 1776), composed music based on my findings— then presented an evening inside the Officers Club Ballroom. I worked with the historical librarian to uncover almost 100 gorgeous archival photos which I projected behind me—early 1900s abandoned psychiatric ward, morgue and hospital wards, as I revealed their tales. The best part was performing the very piece of music I composed inside, on a 1903 Steinway grand, inspired by the centuries-old legend of the lady ghost who is often seen dancing in that very space.

That’s the magic music allows—like a trap door or portal, it transports us—to a place we never knew existed, but wish to go. I am a gatekeeper of emotions. My favorite thing is to be able to take an audience to that place with me.

Diabolique:How does composing music in unusual locations, or via strange objects, as in your Musical Séances, differ from writing songs?

Tracy: When I am writing songs, I’m emotionally connected and in charge. I’m masterful of every word, creak in my voice, arrangement, breath between the notes. It’s purposeful. There is a destination.

When I channel music, it’s the complete opposite, I have to surrender. I am the conduit, a passenger. I have NO idea where I am going. That is both the thrill and the challenge.

I’ve learned to compose spontaneously via various energy sources, whether found objects, environments, etc. I am clairaudient, so I often hear unexplained music and voices.

The Musical Séance is a live travelling show, my long-time collaboration with violinist Paul Mercer. It’s a collective summoning driven by beloved objects the audience brings with them. Items of personal significance—such as a photo, talisman, jewelry, toy. This is a very crucial part of manifesting the music. Every object holds its story, its spirit— energy, resonance, impressions from anyone who has ever held the object, to the experiences and emotions passed through it.

These compositions are delicate living things. They materialize, transport, and in the same second—they vanish. That’s the amazing thing about The Musical Seance—you never know what to expect, and each experience is entirely different, extremely emotional, for us, as well as the audience. It creates this rare synergy with everyone in the entire room.

It’s the closest thing to time travel.

Often, the curiosities themselves are just as compelling as the music they inspire. We’ve encountered everything from cremated cats, dentures, haunted paintings, 16th century swords, antlers, x-rays, gingerbread man, a lock of hair from a drowned boy.

But one thing I’ve learned is—everyone in the world has a story to tell that will break your heart.

Some of my favorite collaborative moments: When famed author Lemony Snicket (Daniel Handler) and I performed a concert as a piano/accordion duo to celebrate the 100th anniversary of Fantômas, the beloved French pulp “Lord of Terror.” We played our hilarious, spine-tingling version of the original “Ballad of Fantômas” with all 26 verses!

I got to share the stage with legendary Doors’ keyboardist Ray Manzarek while we played keyboards, and discussed how literature influenced our music.

I acted in several seasons of classic Grand Guignol with renowned troupe Thrillpeddlers—dying onstage in all sorts of violent ways: plunging off a balcony while singing Tosca, being hypnotized by a mad scientist, killed in a violent train crash, torn apart by a savage wolf boy!

Allowing yourself to be terrified and scream onstage in front of an audience is profoundly liberating and cathartic.

Diabolique:Your act is often described as dark cabaret, would you agree with the label, and what does the term mean to you? How would you describe your work within the context of “Gothic”?

Tracy: All these terms are annoying. They negate the artist, to serve the marketing—and constantly spun around in a blender. We must now cram everything in watered-down boxes to sell it to the unknowing herd.

Someone asked me the other day—“do you strive to be more dark cabaret, noir jazz, or witch rock?” I wanted to strangle them! (laughs) Keep in mind my first release was in 1995 (with an EP before that), long before these terms or this type of mindset-marketing existed. Hell, I just write what I feel. There is never a pre-conceived “box.”

The sad thing is this hyper-branding ruins the impact, the poignancy, the meaning of a piece of art on its own terms. To merely slap it with a label is ignoring it. But hey, this is about business, not art, they tell you. Hello Internet.

That’s why, sadly, art has less meaning in people’s lives. When I was growing up, that’s how you bonded with someone. (Certainly if you were an outlier.) What bands do you listen to? What books are you reading? What are your favorite films?

Now, it’s what phone do you have? What apps? How many Facebook friends do you have? Tech has become the barometer.

This constant commodification is ruining culture in general. It’s ruined so much of what music is, and what impact it had on your life. Music was expression. It could be dangerous, subversive, it STOOD for something. If you saw someone from across the room with a Gang of 4 t-shirt, you knew they were a kindred spirit. There would be that constant, crazed search for your favorite band photos, t-shirt or buttons in the back of magazines, or at an obscure record store. You had to put effort into the quest! It meant something! Now it’s pointless stock at at Hot Topic or Target.

I saw a guy in LA recently wearing a Nirvana t-shirt. I asked him about Kurt Cobain, he said he did not know who that was.

I’ve read comments on my own music videos that say “I really like this music, but don’t know what this style is called, it’s so unique, so I’m not sure if I can like it or not.” How sad we now need PERMISSION to think for ourselves. Be brave enough to form your own opinions! To create whatever you wish to create. If anything, that is my message, the entire point of my career: Embrace your strange, live your life brazenly and unapologetically. Honor your distinct vision amidst the struggle, the stupidity, the naysayers, and the corporate brainwashing. There has never been a more vital time to escape the cage.

Jill Tracy portrait by Audrey Penven

Diabolique:Tell us about some of the ways in which your music has made it into film and television.

Tracy: My first major placement was an NBC-TV newsmagazine segment about absinthe (late 1990s when it was still illegal and taboo.) They used my music, with Erik Satie, plus Nine Inch Nails and Marilyn Manson while you saw visuals of Oscar Wilde, Baudelaire, and Van Gogh cutting off his ear in an absinthe stupor! (laughs.) I felt like I had arrived in grand company.

My songs and instrumentals have been in several independent and feature films. I did the end title song for Jeremy Carr’s brilliant new thriller Other Madnesses, which has won several awards. Plus— PBS, the CBS hit show Navy NCIS featured my songs as themes for sultry goth forensic scientist Abby Sciuto (Pauley Perrette.) And Showtime used my track “Evil Night Together” as the Final Symphony—the ad campaign to promote the wildly-anticipated final season of Dexter.

I would love to do more scores and songs for film/TV.

Diabolique:Where do you find inspiration?

Tracy: It’s never any one thing specifically; that’s the beauty of it, the sheer randomness. There’s that great Leonard Cohen quote—”If I knew where the good songs came from, I’d go there more often.”

For me, it’s more of a sensory response to the immediate; a word or phrase, an image, a story, a mood, a fragrance, textures, colors, the allure of the unknown, the forbidden, anything that enables me to ‘slip into the cracks” and get out of this world for a while. It’s the grand escape hatch.

And even though I’m holding the reins, I never know where it will take me. I simply trust that I can hold on with all my might, and see it through to the other side. That’s the place where all songs live.

Diabolique:So far what would you consider your biggest achievement?

Tracy: One of my greatest pleasures of late has been immersing myself alone in unusual locations, or a place with a strange story, and composing music as a reaction to that environment. The intense purity and immediacy is so exciting. You are hearing my raw emotional response at the piano.

I’ve found myself conjuring the hidden score in decrepit gardens and cemeteries, on the antique Steinways of the (supposedly haunted) Victoria B.C. 1890 Craigdarroch Castle, an 1800s San Francisco medical asylum, abandoned buildings inside the famed 1776 Presidio military base, and the Los Angeles mansion of a 19th century murderer.

The lovely and difficult thing about this work is that I can’t prepare for it, as I never know what to expect. I must allow myself to be completely vulnerable; simply feel, and react. It’s not about me anymore; it’s about the music, the story. It becomes so much bigger than any of us.

My huge dream-come-true is that I am first musician in history to ever be awarded a grant from Philadelphia’s famed Mütter Museum, to create a series of work inspired by its spellbinding collection of medical oddities. I spent nights alone at a piano amidst the Mütter’s grotesque cabinet of curiosities, which includes the death cast and conjoined liver of original Siamese twins Chang and Eng, the skeleton of the Harry Eastlack “the Ossified Man,” Einstein’s brain, The American Giant, books bound in human skin, and the Mermaid Baby. It was vital for me to be in the presence of these long-lost souls, as I composed and recorded. They become an actual part of the work and not just the subject matter. I began this project in 2012, with subsequent visits, and have become totally caught up in the research! What began as a single music album, has transformed into the idea of a full-blown book/memoir project with music and visuals. Excited to finally get back to it.

Diabolique:If you could work with anyone past and present, who would it be?

Tracy: I’d love to have jammed with Led Zeppelin’s drummer John Bonham. Actually Jimmy Page (guitar) and John Paul Jones (bass) are all such phenomenal musicians, I would adore the opportunity to play with them. As well as the members of Pink Floyd. What a dream to be in the studio with David Gilmour! I would love to have Thom Yorke and Nigel Godrich (Radiohead) produce an album with me, and create that huge, heartbreaking soar of gloom and elegance.

I wish I could have sung a duet with David Bowie. I have not recovered from my sadness and depression over his death.

Diabolique: Where can we follow you on social media?

Tracy: Here are the links! Follow me for ongoing adventures in the netherworld…

Composer and sonic archeologist Jill Tracy has begun an unprecedented project—a musical excavation of mysterious Lily Dale, the famed private town of mediums and Spiritualists in upstate New York. She is recording her singular piano music channeled at night inside the original 1883 auditorium, site of séances and spirit communication services for over a century. She has captured field recordings from the mystical Leolyn Woods to chilling nighttime rainstorms to create an authentic, never-before-heard sonic journey. Donate and get a rare glimpse into this strange, little town that talks to the dead…

“Jill Tracy is utterly intriguing. She transports you into a magical world solely of her creation.”
NPR, ALL THINGS CONSIDERED

“Jill Tracy is the Queen of taking her listeners into another realm.”
SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE

**UPDATE: AUGUST 2017!**
I have returned to Lily Dale for more research and recording! I want to thank all of YOU immensely for helping to fund the initial trip, enabling this project to even exist. I am honored by your level of trust in my work—and to the Lily Dale Assembly for inviting me to do this. Such a rare opportunity.
I was so consumed on my first trip with the tales and energy— that recordings already exist for a full album of music— channeled on Lily Dale’s antique piano. It’s truly beautiful. So, I can officially announce that everyone who donates will get the complete collection of my Lily Dale piano music and field recordings, plus their name in the credits! If we can get closer to the goal, I will launch bonus rewards, so donate now to allow this to happen! (And we’ll see what else I unearth from here on out..) I really adore being here.

Read on for the whole fascinating story, and I answer your questions about the project:

What’s it like inside this peculiar place called Lily Dale?

I have been fascinated with Lily Dale for years, and beyond thrilled to have been invited to research, live amongst the mediums, and compose music on the piano inside the 1883 grand auditorium (pictured below)— the site of many poignant spiritualist gatherings, spirit communication services, and lectures. Susan B. Anthony spoke during the Women’s Suffrage Movement. Harry Houdini walked these grounds. (Did you know Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was a devoted Spiritualist? Mae West too.)

It’s an honor and inspiration to be blessed with this opportunity, but I need your help! Plus the thought of taking you along on the journey makes it even more alluring.
Come with me for a backstage pass beyond the veil.Rare and strange discoveries await us both…

My invitation came unexpectedly (like most magical things do) so I am scrambling to prepare. I want to inhabit Lily Dale during its off-season, with no visitors, to experience the town authentically. And be able to work at the piano alone in the auditorium, wander and conduct field recordings in the mystical Leolyn Woods (a sight of supposed strong spirit activity.)
I will be living in the home of an actual medium on the lake!

I cannot bring a crew with me, so I must be completely self-contained with video, recording gear, software, and accessories. I must buy things. I have travel expenses. This is where YOU come in! To show my appreciation, I’ll send you secret behind-the-scenes photos, odd historical tales from the archives, videos, interviews, updates, recordings, and musical works in progress.

You’ll peer into the entire process and accompany me on my explorations…

DETAILS:

What is Lily Dale?

Lily Dale is a private village on small, placid Cassadaga Lake founded when the Spiritualist movement, began in 1848 in central New York State.
In the middle of nowhere, mediums, some of them fourth or fifth generation, live in quaint clapboard houses. The village, on 167 wooded acres, has about 100 year-round residents— ALL of them Mediums and Spiritualists. This means a belief that spirits are able to communicate with the living by agency of a medium. … Adherents of spiritualistic movements believe that the spirits of the dead survive mortal life, and that sentient beings from spiritual worlds can and do communicate with the living.

Definitions from the National Spiritualist Association of Churches:
A Medium is one whose organism is sensitive to vibrations from the spirit world and through whose instrumentality, intelligences in that world are able to convey messages and produce the phenomena of Spiritualism. (1914)

Spiritualism is the Science, Philosophy and Religion of continuous life, based upon the demonstrated fact of communication, by means of mediumship, with those who live in the Spirit World. (1919)

What will you do there? And why?

My work has always been about honoring the Mystery, the hidden worlds that lurk all around us. My piano is my portal. Frequencies, resonant tones, music, and sound have long been used in psychic communication. Music (which is merely a collection of selected frequencies) is a bridge to realms we may never fully comprehend or master— but they surround us. I’m fascinated with what I call “sonic residue,” echoes, and impressions that remain in environments, buildings and objects. Much like a ghost. For me, uncovering the hidden music within these spaces is the closest thing to time travel or channeling. The thought of being alone at the piano in the Lily Dale auditorium, playing pieces that were once performed during actual spiritualism services and séances is chilling. I plan to set up a series of microphones to capture the ambience, the room— the aural energy of being inside this place is as intense as the music I uncover.

I will be working with the great folks at Lily Dale’s Marion H. Skidmore Library, which houses the largest collection of Spiritualist books in the world. They have been saving rare 1800s Spiritualist sheet music and audio-related materials for me for over a year! Much never-before-seen. So I will be spending a lot of time in the stacks. I plan to conduct interviews with historians and those who communicate with the dead—and even experience readings myself from the mediums, and attend mediumship workshops.
I approach this project as neither a believer nor non-believer, but open in expanding my mind to possibility. I do believe in other realms and energies far beyond human comprehension. There is so much we don’t know.

Why should I donate?

Your donations make this project exist. The closer I can get to the goal and beyond means I get more accomplished during my stays in Lily Dale to create new art, music, and content I am proud to share with you.

NOTE: I am paid NO money for these research trips, make no other income during the time invested — and still responsible for my monthly bills and living expenses during my travels. It’s a tough constant slog for artists and researchers— countless hours unpaid, but the process is the most vital part of the creation!
Knowing you value my work and efforts means the world to me.

Please remember that this equipment is not “one-use only,” but an investment enabling me to continue and expand my work ongoing. My future goal would be to use this material to finally launch my web series of strange, sonic explorations, which could also be edited into a podcast with interviews and stories, as well as releasing the Lily Dale music! This experience could also become a memoir, lecture/ live concert event. Ahhh, think of all the spellbinding possibilities!

Your contribution is the launchpad.

I am driven to do this project now, and celebrate these enchanting, hidden gems while they still exist. Lily Dale is such a place. There is belief and beauty here, a welcome respite from the current state of much of the world. It’s important to acknowledge this.I embark on this project with the utmost respect.
I hope you will come with me… Here’s the official LINK.

JILL TRACY: On Mystery, Music, and the Mütter Museum

Jill Tracy is a conjuror of the enigmatic; a purveyor of the extraordinary and raconteur of dark delights. She weaves her web with delicate soundscapes, seducing us into her parlour with eerie tales, which are sinister, yet captivatingly sweet. A singer, songwriter, composer, performer and all-around creative wonder, Jill has her delicate fingers in many delicious pies!

We found Jill tangled amongst a fury of live performances, recordings and music channeling: freeing herself for a moment to talk with us about some of the many projects she is currently immersed in.

Your music conjures such strong impressions of the past, each taking the listener back to a different by-gone era. What do you think it is about the past that is so seductive?

Jill Tracy: My music doesn’t evoke the Past so much as it does a sense of pure Timelessness. Transcendent of Time. That’s what makes it seductive; creating that place––familiar yet oddly intriguing. It resonates on a soulful level, but still maintains an air of the mysterious. That’s the magic music allows —like a trap door or portal, it accompanies us—to a place we never knew existed, but wish to go.

I’m honored to be this gatekeeper of emotions. Throughout my life, I’ve simply followed my own muses. I’ve always just composed the score I hear inside my head. Music from the mind’s eye… To listen to my music is to know me.

I have always been drawn to fantastical, otherworldly imagery. Worlds sans-time. As a child, I was obsessed with Alfred Hitchcock, Bernard Herrmann, Ray Bradbury, Rod Serling, Jean Cocteau. I just wanted to live in those worlds. I still do.
So I did the next best thing: I devoted my life to creating my own musical netherworld.

photo by bleedingvisuals

You’ve performed a number of ‘Musical Séances,’ with violinist Paul Mercer, over the years. At these events attendees bring along objects, trinkets, belongings that remind them of loved ones and you ‘channel’ live music using these possessions. What is it like to speak with the dead through music?

JT: Paul and I never approach it that way. It would be outrageous and in bad taste to claim we are “speaking to the dead through music.” If anything, it’s about honoring the dead, not mocking them, or selling hokum like sideshow hucksters.

The “Musical Séance” is a collective summoning inspired by beloved objects. Quite frankly, it’s more about the present than the past, music channeled from that fragile moment captured among the living. From sentiment to sadness, frivolity and fear. It’s musical psychometry.

Audience members are asked to bring tokens of special significance, such as a photo, talisman, jewelry, toy. This is a very crucial part of manifesting the music. Every object holds its story, its spirit. Energy, resonance, impressions from anyone who has ever held the object, to the experiences and emotions passed through it.

Often, these curiosities themselves are just as compelling as the music they inspire. We’ve encountered everything from cremated cats, dentures, haunted paintings, 16th century swords, antlers, and x-rays.

But one thing I’ve learned is––everyone in the world has a story to tell that will break your heart.

JT: My music and live performances have always been so emotionally driven to begin with– I would see people sometimes crying in the front row, or they’d come up to me after a set relating how a particular song got them through a rough time, or helped them find their true path, etc. I’ve realized I’ve become a beacon for so many kindred souls. And that’s very important to me. That genuine direct connection with an audience is such a rarity these days—in a world where entertainment has become vacuous and superficial. We are about as real as it gets.

I wanted the audience to become even more a part of my process, and actually compose pieces in front of them, culled from their energy. It’s a perfect circle. The audience gives to me, and I channel it musically and give it right back, creating a piece that will exist solely for us in those few minutes. It’s the most powerful thing I’ve ever experienced. A musical umbilical cord.

That led me to immersing myself in unusual locations laden with mysterious history, and manifesting music from my reaction to the environment. The intense purity and immediacy is so exciting. You are hearing my raw response at the piano. I call it “spontaneous musical combustion” (as homage to “spontaneous human combustion,” and my affinity for peculiar history and science tales.)
I’ve found myself conjuring the hidden score inside haunted castles, abandoned asylums, decrepit mansions, gardens, and theaters. It’s definitely one of my greatest pleasures right now.

The lovely and difficult thing about this work is that I can’t prepare for it, as I never know what to expect. I must allow myself to be completely vulnerable; simply feel, and react. It’s not about me anymore; it’s about the music, the story. It becomes so much bigger than any of us. That’s the beauty of it.

photo by Audrey Penven

It seems appropriate that you hold these musical séances when your music is so often described as being ‘haunting’ and ‘otherworldly’. Perhaps you are a bit of an apparition yourself?

JT: (laughs) Jello Biafra is quoted as saying “Drop dead original and dark as a drowning pool…I sometimes wonder if Jill Tracy is actually a ghost.”

I’ve been described as a musical sorceress, evocateur, intrigante, woman of mystery, ‘dark Queen of Melancholia,’ ‘femme fatale for the thinking man.’ All of these descriptives I adore. I guess when you feel out-of-sorts with the world, you must create your own.

From spiritualism to alchemy – what fine potions have you been working on by which to enchant us through another of the senses?

JT: I engage such a full-sensory arc in my work. I’ve always wanted to create fragrances to correspond to the music, similar to the way we concoct visuals with each album. Why not engage the olfactory? The sense of smell is directly linked to the limbic system, the part of the brain where emotion and memory are centered!

I’m collaborating with master perfumist Emerson Hart of Nocturne Alchemy. We’ve released two scents: Silver Smoke and Star of Night. I’m addicted to them already and have been wearing them constantly. More to come!

It’s been so exciting and fulfilling to smell these fragrances on different skins, everyone brings their signature to the scent and it changes person-to-person.
Night fragrance for Night music…

photo by Jeremy Carr

You’re currently in the middle of a new project with the Mütter Museum, where you have been invited to create compositions inspired by their collection of medical oddities. How did this come about?

JT: Yes, I’m honored to make history as the first musician to be awarded a grant, which is enabling me to compose music inside the Mütter Museum, a series of compositions directly inspired by pieces in the collection. It was vital for me to be in the presence of these long-lost souls, as I composed and recorded. I needed to immerse myself in their world. There is so much lurking here. This glorious synergy– the collection of souls together from various time periods and walks of life, most who endured extreme and rare medical conditions. I needed to be with them as I composed and make them a real part of the creation. This is my gift to them.

What inspired you to want to compose with the museum as a backdrop?

JT: The Mütter Museum has always been on of my favorite places on earth. When I first visited, I remember vividly standing on the red-carpeted steps leading down to the lower level and hearing the buzz. It was overwhelming. All these people, all these stories, together—yet apart, remembered—yet forgotten. I was swept in a whirlwind of feelings: admiration, pity, fright, shock, respect, repulsion, sadness. I just wanted to sit and listen, to hear their tales, to know them.

As you explore the Hyrtl Skull Collection, for example: Each has a brief story written in meticulous cursive on the side of the skull: Suicide by gunshot wound of the heart because of “weariness of life.” Lovesick teenager, a soldier, a shoemaker, well-known murderer, a tightrope walker who died of a broken neck, a hanged man, and a famous Viennese prostitute. All this life and death shared together in one glass case. It’s phenomenal.

There is such a brave beauty in these souls who had to endure these afflictions. I want to bring them to life through my music—peel away the clinical guise, dwell deeper, find the voices hiding within these walls.

All of my work will be factual. I’m in the throes of extensive research at the museum, even utilizing excerpts from letters and doctors’ records. My goal is to evoke the spirit, set a mood that transports you inside just by listening.

(Hyrtl Skulls, photo courtesy of Concierge.com Philadelphia)

What experiences have you had so far while working within the Mütter Museum? What is it like to create music in a setting that is normally very sterile and diagnostic?

JT: Well, for many, the study of science and disease is viewed as quite dry and clinical. There exists a strong disconnect with the examination of the disease itself and the dear souls who had to endure these afflictions. The personal saga of these brave patients is not often well documented, nor discussed. I remember as a child being obsessed with old medical textbooks and tomes, and upset that I could never find out more about the people in these books, but merely the disease.

But the Mütter is a different experience. It is indeed a medical teaching museum. But, Dr. Mütter’s entire point for starting the museum was to teach empathy and compassion. There lies in that a tremendous sense of marvel for me.

I want to honor the emotional side, the human experience from the Mutter’s collection. You may read about Harry Eastlack, the ossified man, whose rare disease (FOP) caused his entire body to slowly transform into bone. Young, handsome, vibrant– painstakingly trapped beneath a second skeletal cage. In the end, he could only move his lips. What was he like? How did he cope? What was his day-to-day experience? It’s unfathomable to me. I was thrilled to be able to read through Harry’s private files in the Mütter collection, letters, photos, extensive doctors’ records.

I composed and recorded the work “Bone by Bone” as I sat next to Harry’s famed skeleton. I needed him with me, to truly be part of the song, and not just the subject matter.

One of the most moving pieces I’m creating is entitled “My First and Last Time Alone,” about conjoined brothers Chang and Eng Bunker. Most of us know them as the original Siamese Twins, gloriously renowned performers who toured the world (even appeared before presidents and Queen Victoria)—married sisters, fathered 21 children, and employed the use of a “privacy sheet.” But after doing extensive research, I was completely devastated when I read how they died. The song is about that heartbreaking 3-hour period on a cold January night.

I was with Chang and Eng’s actual death cast, and their conjoined liver as I composed the piece. This was one of the most compelling experiences I’ve ever had. Abiding by the twins’ wishes, the liver was never separated, even after death.

How does the musical ‘channelling’ differ from the process you go through when composing (for example, the score for F.W. Murnau’s Nosferatu) and/or writing the songs for your previous albums?

JT: It’s completely the opposite. In the case of film scoring, visuals dictate the music. I’m hanging on the visual, emotional cues–serving them. Channeling music is like jumping off a cliff. I’m not even conscious of it. It’s a visceral reaction to an energy, a sensation.
When I was scoring Nosferatu, I spent so much time in Murnau’s eerie world that the imagery would seep into the present. I remember vividly crossing a busy San Francisco street, looking down and suddenly seeing rats scurrying everywhere in a grainy, chiaroscuro haze.
When writing songs for my own albums, I get to take the reins. That process is much more personal.

(Jill Tracy performing her score to Nosferatu. photo by Jon Bradford)

Is there a famous figure from history you would like to try to connect with through one of their belongings? Anyone you would like to bring forth in a musical séance for your own pleasure?

JT: Wow, what a fantastic question! I can think of so many great ones: Count St. Germain’s velvet cloaks, Nikola Tesla and his beloved white pigeon, Rod Serling- via his Night Gallery paintings. I’d give anything to sit behind John Bonham’s drum kit, or play Richard Wright’s (Pink Floyd) piano.

Have you always been interested in history and its secrets?

JT: For me it was more about the unknown rather than just history stories. I loved asking certain questions and realizing no adult knew the answer. I learned there was a much deeper level that no one seemed to be able or brave enough to tap into.
I was given the book The Mysterious World when I was a child and when I first opened it, there was a picture of spontaneous human combustion. I had never heard of such a thing in my life. There’s that wonderful old photograph of Dr. John Irving Bentley who suddenly burst into flame. There’s a bit of his leg, with his foot still in a slipper, his walker, and cinders everywhere. And I’d read about toads and frogs and blood raining from the sky. Or Count Saint Germain, who was recorded to have lived for hundreds of years. He said his secret to immortality was to eat oatmeal and wear velvet encrusted with gemstones. To this day, no one knows exactly who he was, where he came from and if indeed he was immortal.
Monsters, marvels, lore, and legend—these are the things that make us feel most alive. The most wonderful questions of all are the ones for which there are no answers.

photo by Audrey Penven

At Nocturne Magazine, we ask our readers to suspend disbelief and become curious again. Is this also your hope for the future, that people allow themselves to be seduced by the mystery of life?

JT: Yes, I live to honor the mystery. I need to be a beacon for people, and allow them into the swampy place in their souls where the sinister and sensual meet. Peel away the layers of comfort and convention we hide behind. I find it fascinating to delve into those places and take an audience with me. Allow people to slip into the cracks, pry up the floorboards and search deeply. Believe. Imagine. It’s so important to hold on to that childlike sense of marvel.
Sometimes I feel that magic and the suspension of disbelief is the only thing that matters.

If you follow me on Twitter, you’ve no doubt seen some odd musings lately. From tales involving archeoforensics, mermaid babies, leeches, assorted spinal deformities, the ossified man, various wet specimens, skeletons, and anthropodermic bibliopegy, the practice of binding books in human skin. And that’s just a start.

Although to most of you who know my work, this would be nothing out of the ordinary. But indeed, a very special creation was under wraps… So, now– drum roll please…

I am honored to make history as the first musician to ever be awarded a grant from the Wood Institute, College of Physicians of Philadelphia to compose music inside the famed Mütter Museum, (the nation’s foremost collection of medical oddities) a series of compositions directly inspired by pieces in the collection.

This is a dream come true project for me, It was vital for me to be in the presence of these long-lost souls, as I composed and recorded. I needed to immerse myself in their world. I needed them with me, so that they become an actual part of the work and not just the subject matter.
I first made the announcement onstage at the Mütter Ball to enthusiastic applause, and debuted a new (completely unfinished) piece from this project, part of my Teratology Lullaby series. I was exhilarated and terrified.

Here is a fantastic interview where I discuss my plans and inspiration behind the Mutter project with Cristy Zuazua from Chain D.L.K. Magazine:

You just announced at the Mutter Ball that you received the Wood Institute Grant – something unprecedented for a musician. Can you tell us a little bit about how you got involved with the grant and the project you’re currently working on at the museum?

JT: Yes, I’m honored to make history as the first musician to be awarded this grant, which is enabling me to compose music inside the Mutter Museum, a series of compositions directly inspired by pieces in the collection. It was vital for me to be in the presence of these long-lost souls, as I composed and recorded. I needed to immerse myself in their world. There is so much lurking here. This glorious synergy– the collection of souls together from various time periods and walks of life, most who endured extreme and rare medical conditions. I needed to be with them as I composed and make them a real part of the creation. This is my gift to them.

What inspired you to want to compose with the museum as a backdrop?

JT: The Mutter Museum has always been on of my favorite places on earth. When I first visited, I remember vividly standing on the red-carpeted steps leading down to the lower level and hearing the buzz. It was overwhelming. All these people, all these stories, together—yet apart, remembered—yet forgotten. I was swept in a whirlwind of feelings: admiration, pity, fright, shock, respect, repulsion, sadness. I just wanted to sit and listen, to hear their tales, to know them.

As you explore the Hyrtl Skull Collection, for example: Each has a brief story written in meticulous cursive on the side of the skull: Suicide by gunshot wound of the heart because of “weariness of life.” Lovesick teenager, a soldier, a shoemaker, well-known murderer, a tightrope walker who died of a broken neck, a hanged man, and a famous Viennese prostitute. All this life and death shared together in one glass case. It’s phenomenal.

(Hyrtl Skulls, photo courtesy of Concierge.com Philadelphia)

There is such a brave beauty in these souls who had to endure these afflictions. I want to bring them to life through my music—peel away the clinical guise, dwell deeper, find the voices hiding within these walls.

All of my work will be factual. I’m in the throes of extensive research at the museum, even utilizing excerpts from letters and doctors’ records. My goal is to evoke the spirit, set a mood that transports you inside just by listening.

You’ve worked in several different mediums – film, music, voiceovers, performance art – what is your favorite method of expression?

JT: Music has always been magic to me. I’m evoking emotion solely out of sound– and transporting myself and others instantaneously. It’s a true slice of Time archived, never to be heard the same way again– especially with my “spontaneous” pieces. Both the fragility and immediacy are my greatest pleasure and challenge– as I’m not really a composer as much as a portal, conjuring this dark and elegant place with just my thoughts and fingertips. It’s both empowering and humbling to become the gatekeeper to emotions, and inviting the audience to join me there.

(Jill Tracy, College of Physicians of Philadelphia. Photo by Evi Numen.)

Is there any type of performance art that you’d like to try and haven’t yet?

JT: I would like to do more theatrical live performances that incorporate various elements, storytelling, memoir, film projection, music, lecture, revolving around one particular theme. I also have had some TV projects in development, trying to find the right home for them. They deal with my penchant for the dark corners of history and science.

I love the way you had this very dark, bluesy, 1920s lounge singer look for your performance at the Mutter – if you could live in any other time or place to make music and art, what would it be?

JT: The theme to the Mutter Ball this year was “Medicine and Electricity in the Roaring Twenties,” so the crowd was resplendent in their costumes, and the Ball featured odd electrical devices from the time period like violet ray generators. There was even bathtub gin amidst pipes in an old ornate claw foot.

Ideally, I’d build the ultimate time machine, and experience many periods and places. That would be fantastic. Although the 1920s was such a vibrant era of art, fashion, decadence—and the Victorian era abundant with aesthetic and ingenuity—I really feel like I’m in the perfect period now, as I am fortunate to employ technology, modern conveniences, communication. Plus being a woman was terribly tough during those times– especially as a fiercely independent artist who has no interest in marriage or having children. It’s hard enough as it is now. I would have been locked up in an asylum for sure.

(Jill Tracy, College of Physicians of Philadelphia. Photo by Evi Numen.)

How did you come up with the idea of “spontaneous musical combustion,” your improvised performances that are all unique? Did the way you involved the audience (like asking for a valued object) ever vary?

JT: My music and live performances have always been so emotionally driven to begin with– I would see people sometimes crying in the front row, or they’d come up to me after a set relating how a particular song got them through a rough time, or helped them find their true path, etc. I’ve realized I’ve become a beacon for so many kindred souls. And that’s very important to me. That genuine direct connection with an audience is such a rarity these days—in a world where entertainment has become vacuous and superficial. Most live shows are anything but—you’re watching a lip-sync to a prerecorded track. On the other hand, I am about as real as it gets!

I wanted the audience to become even more a part of my process, and actually compose pieces in front of them, culled from their energy. It’s a perfect circle. The audience gives to me, and I channel it musically and give it right back, creating a piece that will exist solely for us in those few minutes. It’s the most powerful thing I’ve ever experienced. A musical umbilical cord.

That led me to immersing myself in unusual locations laden with mysterious history, and manifesting music from my reaction to the environment. The intense purity and immediacy is so exciting. You are hearing my raw response at the piano. I call it “spontaneous musical combustion” (as homage to “spontaneous human combustion,” and my affinity for peculiar history and science tales.)
I’ve found myself conjuring the hidden score inside haunted castles, abandoned asylums, decrepit mansions, gardens, and theaters. It’s definitely one of my greatest pleasures right now.

(Objects from a Musical Seance, photo by Neil Girling, theblight.net)

The “Musical Séance” (which I most often perform alongside violinist Paul Mercer) is a collective summoning inspired by beloved objects. Audience members are asked to bring tokens of special significance, such as a photo, talisman, jewelry, toy. This is a very crucial part of manifesting the music. Every object holds its story, its spirit. Energy, resonance, impressions from anyone who has ever held the object, to the experiences and emotions passed through it.
Often, these curiosities themselves are just as compelling as the music they inspire. We’ve encountered everything from cremated cats, dentures, haunted paintings, 16th century swords, antlers, and x-rays.
The lovely and difficult thing about this work is that I can’t prepare for it, as I never know what to expect. I must allow myself to be completely vulnerable; simply feel, and react. It’s not about me anymore; it’s about the music, the story. It becomes so much bigger than any of us. That’s the beauty of it.

(Jill Tracy, College of Physicians of Philadelphia. Photo by Evi Numen.)

You’ve said in the past that the current focus on instant gratification has damaged people’s desire to use their imaginations – do you think your music would be different if you’d had the internet and a similar environment growing up?

JT: That’s a brilliant question. Yes, absolutely I would be a different person. The Internet is both a blessing and a curse. The ease and ability to obtain information is indeed wondrous. But, at the same time, it creates a laziness factor. The great “connection” we think we have achieved is actually destroying our distinct awareness because everyone is getting their information/views from the same sources, not looking outside or challenging themselves to think further.

Online marketing and social media creates a troubling herd mentality. When you purchase something, you are told, “Well, you will like THIS artist or product or friend.” Not giving you a chance to discover what you like on your own terms. Listening to radio like Pandora, etc is only playing things for you that it thinks you like, culled by very narrow factors. We think these tools are making our world bigger, but in essence it’s stifling us, making it much smaller. Only giving us a glimpse.

There has never been a greater need to venture outside the cage, to seize our true passions and shape ourselves authentically. Where’s the triumph of discovery, or empowering sense of identity when the same crap is being pushed down everyone’s throat? To be an individual now takes a great deal of effort, and sadly most people are apathetic, too buried in it all to even try or care anymore.

It’s the stepping away from the virtual Petri dish that’s vital to self-discovery. Great art was never created on a consensus.

(Mutter Museum, courtesy Concierge.com Philadelphia)

One theme going through your work is the concept of “the legend” and maintaining a sense of the unknown as we grow, yet the Mutter Museum and its research is geared toward dispelling much of that mystery as it relates to our bodies; how do you see your music combining these concepts?

JT: Well, for many, the study of science and disease is viewed as quite dry and clinical. There exists a strong disconnect with the examination of the disease itself and the dear souls who had to endure these afflictions. The personal saga of these brave patients is not often well documented, nor discussed. I remember as a child being obsessed with old medical textbooks and tomes, and upset that I could never find out more about the people in these books, but merely the disease.

But the Mutter is a different experience. It is indeed a medical teaching museum. But, Dr. Mutter’s entire point for starting the museum was to teach empathy and compassion. There lies in that a tremendous sense of marvel for me.

I want to honor the emotional side, the human experience from the Mutter’s collection. You may read about Harry Eastlack, the ossified man, whose rare disease (FOP) caused his entire body to slowly transform into bone. Young, handsome, vibrant– painstakingly trapped beneath a second skeletal cage. In the end, he could only move his lips. What was he like? How did he cope? What was his day-to-day experience? It’s unfathomable to me. I was thrilled to be able to read through Harry’s private files in the Mutter collection, letters, photos, extensive doctors’ records.

I composed and recorded the work “Bone by Bone” as I sat next to Harry’s famed skeleton. I needed him with me, to truly be part of the song, and not just the subject matter.

Personally, one of the most moving pieces I’m creating is entitled “My First and Last Time Alone,” about conjoined brothers Chang and Eng Bunker. Most of us know them as the original Siamese Twins, gloriously renowned performers who toured the world (even appeared before presidents and Queen Victoria)—married sisters, fathered 21 children, and employed the use of a “privacy sheet.” But after doing extensive research, I was completely devastated when I read how they died. The song is about that heartbreaking 3-hour period on a cold January night. (I won’t give the rest away!)

I was with Chang and Eng’s actual death cast, and their conjoined liver as I composed the piece. This was one of the most compelling experiences I’ve ever had. Abiding by the twins’ wishes, the liver was never separated, even after death.

(Chang and Eng Bunker, courtesy summagallicana.it)

I’ve read you love the Bay area and have had a great reception there – could you see yourself living anywhere else?

JT: I adore San Francisco and the Bay Area; it will always feel like home. But I’m certainly open to adventure. I would love residing in other places if there was an intriguing project or circumstance beckoning me. The allure of new possibilities. Change is an integral part of feeling fully alive.